


Sweetest of Prayers

by NamelesslyNightlock



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BAMF Loki (Marvel), Blood, Enemies to Lovers, Fluffy Ending, Getting Together, God Loki, Human Sacrifice, M/M, Pining, Protective Loki (Marvel), Rituals, Tony Stark Is A Good Influence, Violence, Worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-20 20:15:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18131564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelesslyNightlock/pseuds/NamelesslyNightlock
Summary: It’s unusual for Loki to feel the pull of worship, so he was curious enough to investigate the source– but if the mortals had aimed to please him, then they had certainly chosen the wrong human to sacrifice.





	Sweetest of Prayers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rabentochter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabentochter/gifts).



> All **Rabentochter** had to do was say "I want a fic where someone wants to sacrifice Tony to Loki" and then I'd finished this an hour and a half later. No joke. Clearly she's magic.  
> (But hey, I got a Viking era fic out of her on the same topic in trade so yay! ~~that one is awesome btw~~ )

Loki was reading in his Midgardian apartment when he felt an old tug in his gut, like someone was pulling on the edge of a string and sending warmth and power through his body.

At first, he dismissed it. He had just reached the climax of his book, and he wanted to at least finish the chapter– but it had been so very _long_ since someone had prayed to him in earnest, using the proper rituals. The Norsemen had long since vanished, and although he knew some pagan practices had continued in certain areas of Midgard, the rituals that the Aesir had taught those few who worshipped them had long since been forgotten.

To feel the pull of worship now was very strange indeed, and it was… intriguing.

So, Loki plucked his bookmark from the armrest of the couch and placed it gently between the pages of his novel, and then headed out with a pull of his seiðr.

It was easy to skywalk straight to the source, the ancient ties between him and the runes that had been painted in blood upon bare skin drawing him in like a beacon. His apparent devotees were not far– they were just north of the city Loki had claimed as his own (if only due to the fact that the Avengers had done so first), conducting their rites in an open clearing in a nature reserve just a few hundred yards from where they had left their cars.

They were dancing and chanting and calling and _drinking_ , the bowls in their hands and the blood on their lips glistening a bright scarlet. But despite their chanting growing more frantic as they noticed his presence, Loki’s gaze was drawn straight to the man bent down in the middle of their circle, wearing only his black trousers and forced to his knees with a knife at his neck. The ground below him was already soaked with the life-blood of the other sacrifices, their bodies flung outside the circle to be dealt with later _–_ and Loki could only be grateful that his devotees had killed the animals first. For if they had already completed their final, _human_ sacrifice, he knew he that he would have likely torn the entire realm apart in his grief.  

Aching, seething, raging _–_ Loki moved into the centre of the circle, his heart hammering and his own blood burning with _wrath._

“Oh, crap,” Stark said as Loki entered his view, his eyes widening. “ _Fuck,_ you shits were praying to _Loki?”_

Loki’s voice shattered the chanting with an unearthly snarl, his hands clenching and his seiðr _exploding_. It rushed out of him in a wall of energy, surging through the clearing and tearing at everything in its path. The devotees were thrown off their feet, blasted through the air, knocked to the ground and into trees.

“You _dare_ ,” Loki growled, “you dare to sacrifice _Tony Stark_ —”

“Loki!” One of them gasped, her hands shaking, her eyes wide with fear. “I’m sorry! We thought you’d like it, we know he’s your enemy—”

Loki raised his dagger, pressing it to her throat, preparing to slice through in a single, clean cut, just as these people had been planning to do to Stark. “You were _wrong_.”

His muscles tensed in anticipation—

“Don’t kill them.”

Loki turned with a growl that dissipated as he recognised the voice, hoarse from pain but otherwise far softer and more pleasant than any others in the clearing.

“They wanted to kill _you_ ,” he replied, his grip on the devotee’s hair tightening and causing her to gasp in pain once again.

“Yes,” Stark agreed. “But they’re still people. Don’t kill them, Loki. Please.”

It was the final word that did it– that single, simple word that felt like a far sweeter prayer than anything any ritual could create.

So, Loki would not kill them, not when Stark wished otherwise– but nor could he simply leave them be, as he did not trust that the mortal police would deal with the matter correctly. Midgardian law stated that a murder not completed was less a crime than a death itself, but Loki could not stand the risk of a second occurrence. So, with a twist of his wrist and burst of the power these very mortals had granted him, Loki opened a way through the branches of Yggdrasil and sent them to land on their knees in the halls of Asgard. If they so wished to worship the gods, then let them see exactly to whom they had gifted their love.

They would not enjoy the experience.

The Aesir had never been benevolent, and these should have known the risk of angering them. But those who were beloved of the gods – or even of just one – would forever be protected. It did not matter whether the devotees lived or died, in the end. They could no longer harm Stark, and that was all that was important. They were _nothing_ – but for Tony Stark, Loki knew he would do more than he was willing to admit.

Wait.

Stark.

_Oh—_

“Hey, uh, Lokes?”

Loki turned.

“Do you think you could get me out of this?”

Loki did not utter a word as he stepped over the remaining puddles of blood to release Stark’s bindings, using his still clean dagger to cut through the rope with ease. Stark rubbed at his wrists, and when Loki saw that he was shivering, he summoned a blanket from his own apartment to wrap around the mortal’s shoulders.

Stark’s eyes widened at the gesture, and Loki almost regretted it. They were enemies, after all– Loki and Iron Man, villain and Avenger. But Stark had been through a lot, and Loki was not willing to risk that he was about to go into shock or suffer hypothermia.

“Try not to die, Stark,” Loki told him bluntly. “I do not want to have wasted the energy rescuing you.”

There. An excuse that not even Stark could read too far into—

Except Stark was staring at him with a curious expression, like he wasn’t about to let it go.  

“Why _did_ you rescue me?” Stark asked. “They were worshipping you, weren’t they? I’ve heard that Vikings did human sacrifices. It can’t have been weird for you. I was totally ready for you to come in and thank them for killing me.” The very thought of it made Loki flinch, and Stark seemed to notice. His voice softened as he finished by asking, “So why _did_ you stop them?”

And… Loki found that he could not answer. He had a response prepared, ready and waiting on the tip of his tongue– but he just couldn’t say it, couldn’t give voice to the lie. With Stark right before him Loki couldn’t deny his own feelings, and he found himself simply staring at Stark with a mix of desperation and horror.

Understanding blossomed on Stark’s face, and then he was stepping forward, letting go of his grip on the blanket to stroke Loki’s cheek, to run a hand through his hair—

And then they were kissing. Stark’s– _Tony’s_ lips were on his, moving with a gentleness that coaxed Loki into responding, their mouths and tongues sliding together in perfect, heavenly strokes. Loki felt like he was floating, and he pulled Tony as close as he could, just _feeling_ the surge of emotion and the sensation of Tony’s skin against his own. And Tony seemed equally reluctant to end the moment. Even when their lips parted Tony stayed close, curled in toward Loki’s chest, still holding on tight.

“Thank you,” Tony said, the words whispering across Loki’s lips like the sweetest of prayers. “For saving me.”

“I always will,” Loki promised. “I don’t need devotees like them, if I can have you.”

There was a question hidden in his statement, and Loki swallowed down his nervousness as he waited for Tony to notice. But the mortal simply smiled, and tucked his face into the curve of Loki’s neck, dotting his throat with a kiss.

 “So, hey,” Tony said a handful of sweet moments later. “Does this mean that you’ll stop attacking the city every other Tuesday?”

“Of course not,” Loki told him. “I must entertain myself somehow.”

“Good,” Tony replied.

And in that moment, as Tony pulled him down and brought their lips together for another gentle kiss, Loki knew that no prayer or ritual could ever match the rush he felt as he cradled Tony in his arms.


End file.
